Ausgleich Symphonie
by Callista.Complex
Summary: Two countries, both alike in diginity, in fair Vienna where we lay our scene... From 1699, Elizaveta joins Roderichs house. This is the story of their history together, from 1699 to present. Major Headcanon, Historical contexts.


Ausgleich Symphonie

Chapter One: Kezdet / Anfang / Beginning

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><p>Elizaveta wiped her brow, adjusting her clothing slightly as she surveyed the devastation around her. The war against Turkey had been both welcomed and cursed. Welcomed because she would become her own country once more, cursed because of the destruction it brought. She sighed slightly, trudging through the streets of her capital city, intent on finding the other that had helped her gain independence. At least she could thank them before attempting to get her country back into shape. Especially that Austria. He had been the key fighter against Turkey.<p>

The destruction was worse than he had thought. Violet eyes scanned the area, watching the League's men work their way through the debris as they searched for survivors. It had taken a while, but the battle had gone well. After this, Hungary should finally be independent from Turkey. Roderich wiped a smudge of dirt off his cheek before turning to walk the other way, searching for the Hungarian. She had been a good fighter, and he needed to make sure that she was secure before this was over. The Austrian looked up as

She continued walking in his direction, her hand pulling across her face in a vain attempt to wipe the blood, sweat, and grime from her visage. Now that the adrenaline was fading from her body, she could feel how weakweek this war had left her. She could feel every bruise, every cut. She could feel the remnants of blades swiping across her skin, marring her flesh and weakening her. And still, she fought. She fought to save her house from destruction, to save her people from tyranny, to save herself. "Austria." She greeted her tone of voice formal and strong, masking how weak and tired she truly felt. "I wanted to thank you so much for helping me and my people. I can never repay you." She bowed slightly, careful of her bandaged torso hidden under layers of clothing.

As the Hungarian approached him, Roderich bowed a little, greeting her politely. Though she seemed to be strong and healthy, it was still obvious that she was pushing herself to appear stronger. He could respect her for that. Everyone had been wounded in some way or another- in the Austrian's case he only had a few minor scratches, but Hungary had suffered the most. In reply, the brunette held up a hand. "Please do not feel obliged to repay me, or any of us, for that matter, in any way as of now. You have fought long and hard, and you deserve to rest. We will discuss such matters after you have begun to recover." He turned his hand outward, offering it to her. "Please, come. I will see to it that you are properly cared for."

The young woman let a small smirk play across her face, her hand moving and gently rubbing her aching ribs. She would probably need to change her bandages soon. Already, she could feel the blood surging against the white linen, threatening to taint the green fabric of her jacket. Still, she put on a brave visage, refusing his hand. "How gentlemanly of you. But I can still walk without your help. Merely lead the way and I will follow."

The Austrian nodded, withdrawing his hand. He instead looked back towards the city gates, where a small camp had been set up. "Come with me, then." He began to walk at a brisk pace, soon reaching the edge of the city and leading Hungary into the camp. "You may rest there," he motioned toward a nearby tent, "We have medical specialists caring for our wounded right now, but they will be with you shortly. After you have rested, we will be travelling to my house." With that, Roderich nodded and turned to walk away. Things needed to be discussed with the other countries that helped to end this conflict.

"His house?" She questioned, her voice barely a whisper as she stared after the Austrian in puzzlement. True, her house was in shambles as of now, but she needed to stay and rebuild it. She would do it herself, too, wounds permitting. And she didn't quite like the way "his house" sounded. She had heard of other nations, conquered and captured, living in other countries houses. Hell. She /had/ been living in Turkey's house for the last 177 years. And she was not going to repeat that again. Narrowing her eyes, she turned away from the tent, following the Austrian. "Answer me a question. What, pray tell, do you mean by 'travelling to your house'?"

Roderich paused, turning around and quirking an eyebrow at the Hungarian. "Ah, I mean that we will be going to my country. You will be living with me for the time being. We will discuss certain matters, of course. For now, though, please rest and have your wounds treated until we can leave." Nodding once more, the Austrian turned and began to walk away once more.

"And how long is 'for the time being'?" She called after him, concern flashing across her face. She felt her breath hitch, the pain in her side welling up. Her hand immediately clutched at the mound, and she could feel the moisture of her blood seeping through her clothing. She couldn't wait for an answer. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She needed to go lie down. With a frown still marring her face, she headed back towards the tent, teeth grit and head held high. If he even toyed with the possibility of her becoming a servant, he would be wrong.

"I'm not sure at this point, Hungary," he replied. "For now, we simply need to confront our current problems and deal with others later." The Austrian was unaware that the Hungarian was that hurt, and he continued on his way to a larger tent. Here, he talked with the other countries and their superiors that helped to free Hungary from Turkey, discussing what to do with the land and how to make sure that the Turks didn't try to invade again. A few hours later, he came back, knocking on the tent pole to get Hungary's attention. "We are to be leaving soon... have your wounds been treated?" He had sent a medic there earlier to check on her...

The brunette sat upon the cot, her face finally cleaned of the blood and sweat, her torso stripped of all but the clean bandages wrapped around her chest. a livid red stain was already seeping on her side, her stomach, shoulders, and arms bright with purple and yellow bruises, marred with thin and thick cuts, some still bleeding, some scabbed over. Her long brown hair was finally freed from the thick ribbon she had used to tie it back, wildly curling over her shoulders and tumbling down her back. She had been in the process of getting dressed when Roderich had knocked. "My wounds were tended to. But why, dare I ask, am I going to your house? There's work to be done here!"

Roderich stood there for a moment before sighing outside the tent. "You will be coming to my house to live there," he put bluntly, "Keep in mind that this is not only for my benefit, but also for your protection. Once you are in my custody, Turkey will think twice before attacking again." He rubbed his temples, hoping she understood. They usually didn't. He couldn't deny a bit of greed on his superior's part, though. "I will aid you in rebuilding your country, which is something that your people will do already." The Austrian glanced back as a horse-drawn carriage pulled up, the driver beckoning for them to come over. He turned back to the tent, addressing Hungary with more authority in his voice. "We don't have much time, either. We need to travel to my house as soon as we can. Please come out so we can leave."

His words hit her slowly. His tone of voice, blunt and somewhat sharp, the kind, gentlemanly ring to it all but lost to her. She was to be his servant. Someone to stay in his custody. Just another pawn in another person's house. He hadn't help free her, just so she could be free. No. He had come her to take her, to use her, just like Turkey had. Her jaw locked, a low snarl emanating from her throat. Her eyes blazed in fury as she took up her sword. She didn't care about her state of undress. She didn't care about her wild appearance, her bruised and battered, bleeding body. She only wanted her independence. She would not become a pawn again. Fury in her eyes, she tossed back the flap of the tent, thrusting her sword towards the Austrian. She would be free!

When the Hungarian didn't answer at first, Roderich was about to knock on the pole again when said nation emerged out of the tent, obviously angered and immediately attacking him. He moved back, stepping out of the sword's path in the nick of time and feeling the very edge of the blade graze him. The Austrian quickly unsheathed his sword, bringing it out and taking a defensive stance. "Please don't do this, Hungary. You're too weak to fight now; don't push yourself too hard. And... if you haven't noticed..." He glanced around, looking at the rest of the people in the camp. Several soldiers had begun to gather, hands on the hilts of their swords. Violet eyes settled back on ElizavetaElizabeta, threatening, but somewhat calm. "You're vastly outnumbered. Please drop your sword."

She inhaled in ragged, hurried draws, each breath taking more to muster than the last. She could feel her chest heaving. Her eyes widened as pain sliced through her ribs, as sharp as the sword that had first set it there. She crumpled to her knees, using her blade to keep her from collapsing. And still, she looked at him with fire in her eyes. She caught her breath after a moment, and, her right hand clutching at the wound on her ribs, she raised the sword that was poised in her left, pointing it at Roderich. "Get... the hell... away from me..." She managed to growl, her hand gripping tighter at the bandage. She could tell that bright red was already staining the bandages. She could feel the blood soaking through to her palm. "I won't be a servant again!" Still, she couldn't hold out against the pain. No matter how strong she wanted him to think she was, no matter how bold she tried to be, she found herself sinking to her knees again, the sword falling from her hand. "I won't... I'd rather die..."

"Hungary, I'm not trying to hurt you, and you're not going to be in the same situation you were in with Turkey. Please understand this." He twitched when she collapsed to her knees, worry briefly flashing across his face. That was a lot of blood... she was seriously injured. The Austrian cautiously approached her, keeping his sword at the ready in case she attacked, which didn't seem likely due to her wounds and weakened state. "Listen," he prompted calmly, "I don't want to make this more difficult than it should be. Please drop your sword." However, Austria could see that the Hungarian was almost too weak to hold her sword. Quietly, he stepped forward and kneeled down in front of her, using a hand to push the sword aside. "I promise you this: I will protect you from Turkey, and I will help you rebuild your country. You won't be in the same situation. It will be different."

The fury in her eyes was fading as she weakened. Her face was defiant as she looked him in the eye, trying to maintain a visage of strength. "And how will it be different? My people have suffered long enough under another nation's rule. I swore to them that they would be free... And all I've managed to do is fall into your hands." She began to notice how close he was, how she was wearing nothing more than bandages and breeches. She hadn't even managed to pull on both of her boots. Her cheeks flamed in anger and embarrassment, as well as pride and humiliation. She didn't want to be his servant. But she couldn't stand against him. With a shaky breath, she bowed her head, tears of anger stinging at her eyes. "... It doesn't matter what I say. I can't fight against you. I'll go with you... but only to spare my people the wrath you might have against them..."

Roderich held her gaze until she bowed her head. She needed to know that he wasn't going to separate her country and re-create the mess that Turkey had made. Hungary was simply too weak right now. Her land- her body- had been scarred and marred by the wars and battles created by her previous 'captor.' The Austrian stood, looking down at her. "Thank you. Trust me, this will be over soon." He motioned for a medic to come over and tend to her wounds. "Please hurry, but be thorough. We need to leave as soon as possible," he instructed him before looking back at the Hungarian, nodding, and walking off to the carriage to talk to the driver, sheathing his sword.

ElizavetaElizabeta was ushered back into the tent, the medic treating her as best he could. She was weary, her body aching and exhausted. It would take a long time for her to recover from these wars. She closed her eyes as the doctor smeared a poultice on her wound, feeling rest wash over her like rain. The bandages pulled tightly around her, and he warned her once again to rest, least she open her healing wound once more. She only smirked and shook her head. As if she was going to rest much. As soon as he left she sat up, pulling on her blood-soaked clothing, her nimble fingers pulling her long hair back into its customary ponytail. Her sword was gone. She would probably never get one again under his rule. But she would be patient. After all, she was a warrior at heart, and he couldn't suppress that.

Roderich waited patiently outside for ElizavetaElizabeta, absent-mindedly stroking one of the horses tied to the carriage. Another few hours had passed, and he hoped she was able to travel now. He didn't want to ask too much of her, but they were a bit pressed for time. His superior wanted him back home as soon as possible. That Hungary... she was definitely a fighter. Having her around would probably beneficial as long as she was on his side. However, until the country was at least partially rebuilt, she wasn't going to be of much use to him. She simply needed to rest and heal.

ElizavetaElizabeta exits the tent, her head held high once again. Her facade was transparent, however, from the slow movements of her body and the occasional wince of pain that spasmed across her face. She approached him, squaring her shoulders and looking him dead in the eye. "What are you waiting for?" She asked, determination thinly veiling the exhaustion in her voice. "I'm fine. If we have somewhere to be, we need to get there." She pulled herself into the carriage, scowling slightly. She'd much prefer riding a horse- it would be faster. But she knew he wouldn't allow it. Nor did he quite seem the type that would go riding...

Roderich held back a sigh as the Hungarian entered the carriage. She did look better than before, but it was plain to see that her wounds were still hurting her. It was going to take a while for those to heal. Nodding to the driver, the brunette got in on the other side, sitting across from Hungary. It was true: he wasn't much of a rider, but he was tired after the battle. On top of this, the other nation was too weak and wounded. Riding would only worsen her injuries, and he would not allow that.

The driver cracked a whip, and the horses moved forward, pulling the carriage behind them as they set off. By this time, the sun was setting, lighting up the sky in a fiery orange glow. Austria looked out the window, watching as Hungary's capital faded off into the distance, and he sighed. He was eager to get home, though... he couldn't help but feel sorry for the warrior across from him. He knew that being taken to live in someone else's home wasn't exactly a pleasant experience, but that was simply how it was to be. "I do apologize for this," he said quietly, "Please don't think too ill of me. I must do whatever my superior commands me."

ElizavetaElizabeta kept her eyes averted, not looking at the Austrian. She curled her knees up, slouching against the side of the carriage. She was tired, her eyes drooping as she pulled her knees closer to her. "... In the end, we are just slaves to our bosses..." She muttered, staring at the fiery orange glow of the sunset. She knew that it wouldn't help to hold a grudge against him. She moved, lying across the seat, closing her eyes. Perhaps she would sleep. He seemed gentlemanly enough to leave her alone. And it would make the horrid journey go all the faster.

Roderich remained quiet at this, thinking the Hungarian's statement partially true. He didn't disturb her as she laid down to rest, and he occupied himself by staring out the window, watching the landscape pass by. The Austrian found himself dozing off here and there, and he was eventually asleep for most of the night. As the first rays of sunlight began to stream through the window, though, he blinked open his eyes, sitting up straight. Judging by the view, they were almost to his house. Finally... these seats were very uncomfortable, and Hungary needed a bit more treatment and some real rest from the looks of it. "Miss Hungary?" He gently prodded her with a hand.

ElizavetaElizabeta didn't stir, her aching body not allowing her to even sit up. She was awake, yes, but her eyes remained sealed shut, her chest rising and falling steadily as if she slept. Each jarring movement of the carriage had rattled her bones, making her sleep uneasy and fitful. She didn't want to talk to him. But she didn't think she could keep lying on her side, the jolting of the carriage vibrating through her ribs. She would probably need to change her bandages upon first arriving. But for now, she wanted to be left alone.

Roderich sighed. "Miss Hungary, we're at my house now. Will you please get up? I have a comfortable bed set up for you with a hot meal. There is a doctor here that is willing to clean your wounds and change out your bandages." He paused for a moment, waiting for her to stir, and he sighed again when she didn't. "I'll be forced to have you carried if you're unwilling to cooperate." The Austrian stood up and opened the door, exiting the carriage and holding the door open. Hopefully that would be enough to get her out.

ElizavetaElizabeta opened one of her eyes, a scowl marring her face. Slowly, she sat up, stretching. A small gasp of pain escaped her lips as she felt pain shooting through her ribs. She couldn't show him he was in pain, however, and she managed to get herself to stand up and exit the carriage, head held high. "You don't need to carry me. I feel perfectly fine." She told the Austrian, biting her lip.

Roderich nodded as the Hungarian exited the carriage, closing the door behind her. He looked up at his house- a rather large mansion surrounded by a well-tended garden. "I'm not sure what kind of lifestyle you're used to, but I will see to it that you are properly cared for and comfortable." The Austrian held a hand out towards the house. "This way, please." He turned and began to walk towards the building, nodding once to the carriage driver in thanks as he left.

The young woman followed him, trying to hide her shock and (dare she say it?) envy over the pristine mansion that lay before her. She was used to old castles and farms. After all, she was a warrior, a farmer, and her people were as well. There was little room for decadence. She frowned, pushing her bangs away from her forehead. So, she was to be a servant in this large mansion? And how many others would she be tending to, or would be helping her? Not that she planned on staying long. As soon as she could, she would rebel against him and leave. All she needed was a sword and an opportunity. Hell, she'd use her fists if she had to. The Austrian didn't look that strong, anyway. He had only managed to bring her here because of her own weakness. She grit her teeth slightly, running a hand through her hair, her fingers grazing the petals of the pink flower perched above her ear. She would get out of this mess, somehow...

Austria continued to walk down the path to the front of his house, glancing up at the sky to see that it was relatively clear, though he could see a mass of rainclouds gathering in the distance. A storm would be nice, he mused as he stepped up the front stairs to his house. Roderich reached for one of the golden doorknobs and pulled it back, showing the Hungarian inside. The doors opened to a very large entry-way, which was lit by a rather large crystal chandelier. Paintings could be seen lining the hallways towards the back, and various vases and decorations graced the marble floors and walls, giving the area a very ornate (though not gaudy) appearance.

"Please come inside," the Austrian bowed slightly, "And welcome to my home." A few people had already come over, quietly speaking to Hungary and politely asking her to come with them.

The Hungarian felt uneasy in this grandeur, the paintings and the crystal, the overall gilded feeling to the entire estate, was putting her off. She was used to simplicity and strength. None of this... fancy, polished /impracticality/ that seemed to pervade the general atmosphere of the home. Not that she would call this a mere home to begin with. To her, it would be a gilded cage. She scowled at the thought, her battered arms crossing her bandaged chest, the worn fingers digging into the bruises upon her upper arms.

And others had arrived. A small flock of servants. She could see the disapproval in their eyes as they looked her over, her wild brown locks tumbling down her back, sloppily pulled away from her face, her tattered, masculine clothing. They of the strictly pinned hair and flowing skirts, would never understand her and her warrior heart. And for that, she found their twittering about her all the more annoying.

A wicked smirk began playing across her face as she looked at the Austrian. He had no idea how much hell she was going to raise around here.

Roderich quietly observed as the servants led the Hungarian away, taking her up the grand staircase to her room. There, they will wash her and see that she is cared for. He had already provided them with proper clothing, though she will be dressed in a more elegant gown instead of servant's clothes (which were still very formal-looking). This was because they were both to meet Austria's superior later that day, and the brunette could only pray that ElizavetaElizabeta would behave herself. She was indeed a warrior at heart, but things change. She'll have to at least pretend to act like a lady. As he headed for his study, the Austrian sighed as he wondered if bringing her there was a good idea. She simply wasn't the type to live the way he did. Whatever happened, though, he still had to obey whatever orders his superior gave him.

ElizavetaElizabeta allowed the servants to pull her upstairs, ignoring the chirp of the ladies around her. Pointless comments swirled around her, including, but not limited to, critiques on her state of dress, how attractive the master of the household was, and a list of music they hoped would be played at the next great concert. She couldn't help but roll her eyes as she listened to their prattle.

They led her into a room, which she assumed she would be staying in. She cringed at the amount of frills in the apartment, the soft color palate and overall... femininity of the room. She noticed one of the girls start pulling at her jacket as another took out a towel and bathing supplies. "I can undress myself, thank you." The Brunette murmured, pulling away from the other woman, her fingers undoing the buttons of her jacket. She realized how tedious this entire process was going to be. She was a grown woman, by God, and she was perfectly capable of fending for herself! She would refuse to be pampered like some know-nothing princess. With an irritated expression, she ordered them all to get out, her frustration increasing when she was informed that the master of the house wouldn't permit them to leave her. "Then don't touch me! I don't need your help for these simple tasks!" She huffed, turning her back to the women and removing her garments, unraveling her bandages, and slipping into the water.

And then they brought her clothing out.

A long, green dress, with a modicum amount of brocade and decadence to make her look like a lady. The frilly petticoats and crinoline. Even a corset, stockings, and high-heeled shoes. Girl's clothing. Things she didn't want to deal with.

"I'm not wearing that." She practically hissed, pulling herself out of the water in an attempt to stop one of the women from leaving with her true clothing. She was pulled back into the water sharply. "I'm not wearing those prissy, girly garments! Give me back my pants!"

Oh, there was going to be hell to pay indeed.

Another sigh escaped his lips as he heard the Hungarian's voice ring through the halls. A few faint thuds could be heard from the upper level as the servants struggled to wash and clothe the dingy girl. The noise was giving him a headache. Setting his pen down, the Austrian slid his glasses off and gently set them on the oak desk, rubbing his temples. He'd have to have a talk with her once this was over. She simply had to learn to live here; there's no other way. Hungary was too weak to rebel, and if she was smart, she'd accept the help he would be giving her. With her under his roof, she would be safer from invasion; from Turkey. Why did she have to be so thick-headed? Why couldn't she just accept whatever situation she was placed in? Austria stood up, replacing his glasses to rest on the bridge of his nose. He needed to take his mind off of the situation, else his headache will progress and get worse. He needed to simply let it go.

Of course, the one and only place to do this was his music room- a rather large room filled with musical instruments. However, in the center of the room, was a large Grand Piano. Quietly approaching it, Roderich opened the lid and let his fingers run over the familiar keys before sitting down on the stool, completely silent for a moment. After a few seconds, he began to play. Lithe fingers moved gracefully over the keys, playing the familiar notes of a piece he had composed himself. He didn't notice when the ruckus upstairs had died down, too lost in his melody to even care. (though, whether this meant that Hungary gave in or the servants gave up was unknown) The piano did indeed soothe him, though; Austria had always thought of it (or music in general) as comforting. There was something special about a piano, though...

Everything else; Hungary; his problems- they were all swept away by the beautiful combinations of sound reverberating throughout the mansion. He needed nothing more.

The Hungarian glared at herself in the mirror, her chest rising and falling with tremendous effort, attempting to break free of the confines of that damn corset they had forced her into. They had won. But she had sure put up a fight. Her eyes flickered to the background behind her, watching one of the ladies attempt to mop up the water from her bath. Another one was picking up the shards of the water pitcher she had smashed against the wall. And a third was delicately trying to nurse a black eye. She smirked, then gasped again slightly as the strings were drawn tightly again.

"That /hurts/. And it's definitely not going to help my bruised and bleeding ribs!" She yelled, only receiving another pull of the strings in acknowledgement.

"Master said to make you into a proper lady. And a proper lady wears a corset."

"A proper lady doesn't have broken ribs from brawling with her country's invaders." The Hungarian murmured, finally giving up. There would be no dealing with these silly women. She allowed them to pull that dress around her, to straighten it. Even pull her hair up into a proper bun, after much effort to tame her wild locks. And hence why she sat here scowling at herself. She didn't even recognize her own face, powdered and covered with makeup as it was.

The young woman was told to go see the master downstairs, and, carefully, she stepped, unsure of herself in the heels that she walked in. Finally managing it to the top of the last flight, she paused, hearing music. A piano, perhaps? The music was indeed beautiful, and she found herself almost... soothed by it's melody. That Austrian could wait. She wanted to see who was playing such a beautiful piece. Carefully, the made her way down the stairs, seeking out the door that emanated music, quietly opening it. She gently leaned against the doorframe, her eyes closed, as she listened to the melody.

The key changed as he neared the end of the piece, giving the music even more strength and feeling as it reached its climax. Roderich's eyes were closed now as his fingers glided over the keys; he was completely relaxed and free from his problems for the time being. Soon, the melody began to slow, a calando of notes getting softer and softer until stopping altogether, letting the vibrations of the strings fade out into silence. The Austrian sat there for a moment before opening his eyes and standing from the stool, closing the lid. He definitely felt better. It was then when he noticed that the house was quiet, giving it an almost halcyon sort of feeling after the noise from before. He had better talk to Hungary now. Turning, the brunette then noticed the figure in the doorway, and he blinked.

"Miss Hungary?" He questioned, not knowing how long she had been there. Taking a step closer, he could see that she had indeed been bathed and properly clothed. The other nation did look much more lady-like and elegant than before... much more... beautiful than the dirty, blood-stained warrior he had met earlier. After meeting her, though, it was obvious to him that this wasn't the type of clothing she was used to, even though it also seemed to fit her very well. She was much more beautiful with her hair down, Austria thought before inwardly smacking himself. Now wasn't the time for such thoughts. Hungary at this point was a problem, not a gain for him, and he only hoped that she chose to cooperate and not cause any trouble. Clearing his throat, he gave a small bow. "You look lovely."

She had been a little astounded when she had finally recognized the man behind the piano to be her captor. The passion he put into his music, the love he had when he pressed upon the keys, it almost reminded her of herself with a sword. Natural. Music was his element, fighting was hers. She scowled slightly at this, mentally slapping herself from letting her thoughts wander. There was no use in trying to get to know him, after all. She'd be out of his house soon enough. She noticed him get up from his seat, and she straightened her posture, holding her head up so as to hide how much pain was saturating her body. A compliment issued forth from his lips. And, in a knee-jerk response, she found her arms crossing, a shield against his words.

"Save your flattery." She grumbled, her hands digging into the fabric of her gown. "I don't want it, no more than I want this dress." She paused for breath, her chest heaving with the effort. "Or this damned torture device you insist proper women should wear!" She took a labored breath again, wincing in pain as the effort pushed against her bruised ribs once more. At this rate, she'd end up re-opening her wound. "I want to go home! And I'm not letting a prissy bastard like you keep me a prisoner! My people need me!" Another pause, another labored breath. "Besides, what can /I/ offer you? You seem rich enough already!" Her grip tightened as she took another strained gulp of air. That did it. She would take that corset and tear it to pieces, the first chance she got.

Any comfort he had gotten from letting himself go on the piano was now gone. The frustration and anger that had been building up resurfaced, and he scowled. Was it so wrong for him to want Hungary to look halfway decent in front of his superior? It was true, he wasn't too familiar with women's clothing and whether or not it was uncomfortable (personally, he would never want to try it on to find out), but that shouldn't be an excuse, should it? Then again, after seeing the Hungarian struggle to /breathe/, especially when having those wounds… Sighing once more, the Austrian glanced away.

"I apologize for this. I'll have more comfortable clothing for you shortly," he replied, giving in. Roderich didn't want any more trouble and would like to avoid as much as he could at this point. "There's no need to shout, either. I understand that you want to go back to your home country, but this is simply how things are now. At this point, I don't have the power to even do that. My superior wanted your land, and I cannot control his ambitions or actions. I am fortunate to have the vanities and privileges I have now, and you should be grateful for the aid I am giving you. As I mentioned before, your country will be rebuilt and you will be healed." Ignoring any other insults, Austria turned to flag down one of his servants, instructing her give Hungary more comfortable, though still proper, clothing that will not labor her breathing or stunt her healing. "Please be quick about it; we need to leave soon."

"No need to shout? No need to shout? You don't get it, do you?" She yelled after him, clutching at her side tightly. She was grateful he had ordered a change in clothing. But that was all she was grateful for. She didn't want his protection. She didn't want his help. He would, more than like, do more harm than help. "I am sick of being a servant in people's houses! I want-" She gulped down air. "I want to be free! I want my people to be free! We... We will not tolerate this...!"

Her people had seen too much suffering, too much pain, at the hands of other empires. And she had fallen once more into another Empire's hands. All she wanted to do was be a warrior, a farmer. All she wanted was the simple life. Pain shot through her side, and she bowed her head, feeling tears pricking at her eyes. She couldn't hold them back. It hurt too much.

"I want to go home... I just... want to go home..."

The Austrian was surprised at the tears, not expecting the other nation to become so emotional. He listened quietly to her protests; they did make sense to him. Of course she would want to go home; of course she would want to help her people. What country wouldn't? It simply wasn't going to happen, though. He hesitated for a moment before slowly extending a hand and placing it on the Hungarian's shoulder, silent and at a loss for words. After a moment, he managed, "Again, I do apologize. I promise you that you will not be treated with any cruelty. You are a respectable nation." Austria paused, searching for the words. "You are a fighter; a warrior… something I am not. I… admire you for your strength and perseverance. But I cannot allow you to simply leave."

Looking up, the brunette noticed that one of the servants had been waiting to take Hungary to give her a new dress. He blinked before awkwardly withdrawing and standing up straight. He will take Hungary to see his superior another day. "Please rest today; we will discuss more tomorrow." Giving another small bow, he turned and walked away, leaving his servant to tend to ElizavetaElizabeta.

She let him touch her. She let him place his hands upon her, too weak and tired to drive them from her person. Her hand, calloused from years of work and fighting, only brushed away the tears on her face. Stupid. She was exposing how weak she truly was to him. The Hungarian grit her teeth, trying to stop the pain by sheer will alone. Trying to stop the tears and the sorrow, the hatred and the rage. She just wanted her peace.

He withdrew his hand. She let her breath (why had she been holding it?) escape from her lungs, feeling a slight warmth where he had placed his hand. His touch had almost been gentle, caring... Her fingers dug into her shoulder, and she let herself be swept into her thoughts, her body being slowly led back into her room.

Would it honestly be so bad, living here? He seemed a lot kinder than that Turk. Her features darkened at the thought of him, the scars he had given her burning across her back. But the Austrian...

She snapped out of her thoughts, the pain around her chest loosening drastically. She was finally free of that corset. And soon, she was changed into a loose fitting nightgown, left to rest. She snorted slightly, waiting until the servants were well and far enough away to creep out of her bed. Pain or no pain, she wouldn't be confined to a bed like some weak, wilting princess. She at least wanted to get a proper layout of the place!

With quiet footsteps, she crept into the hallway. Time to explore.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes:<p>

This FanFiction is actually a very long RP between my Austria and I based on the historical relations between Austria and Hungary. It describes the changing relationship between the two from when Hungary became a servant in his house (1699) to present day. As the RP is not complete (we're only at Maria Theresa), expect updates to be maybe once a month.

We hope you enjoy it!


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